


The Kitchen Incident

by chase_acow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Communication Failure, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: "Geeze, Bucky, I thought you'd be happy!" Steve threw his arms up and pivoted around as if asking the punching bags to be on his side. His voice echoed around the room, and the mirrors lining one wall all shared his look of exasperation. "Everyone knows how you feel about him."





	The Kitchen Incident

"Geeze, Bucky, I thought you'd be happy!" Steve threw his arms up and pivoted around as if asking the punching bags to be on his side. His voice echoed around the room, and the mirrors lining one wall all shared his look of exasperation. "Everyone knows how you feel about him." 

"Yeah, great," Bucky gritted his teeth, stretching further down his shins to almost reach his toes. Flexibility had never been high on the priority list for his time spent out of the freezer and it was still evident in his creaks and groans. "Everyone knows about Barnes' pathetic little crush. _Awesome_. One more reason Sam shouldn't have used it to make fun of me." 

He'd avoided the mirrors when he'd retreated to the Tower's gym, not wanting to see his red eyes or blotchy skin. Bucky had been a walking disaster since he'd shown up on their doorstep after the evil robot disaster, he didn't need the reminder. It shouldn't be so hard to behave like a normal human being; he'd had almost thirty years of practice before being put on ice. And yet, he and Stark weren't allowed to be in the same room at the same time, and he was as likely to make Sam scowl as much as laugh. 

"Bucky, I don't think-" 

"I mean, I get it, that's our schtick," Bucky continued, raising his volume so Steve would shut up for fucking once. "That's who I get to be with him, and that's fine." 

He pulled his leg up and twisted his torso. There was a slight chance he'd overdone it with his work out after he'd bolted from the kitchen. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he knew his temperature was up, and he could feel twitches throughout his muscle, kind of like the popping noises of an engine cooling. Sweat chilled him, but he did have his bag with his hoodie so he was stuck in flimsy cotton that had been washed too often. The more he stretched now the less he'd hurt later, and not so incidentally the longer he could put off making the walk of shame to his room. 

By this time, _everyone_ must have heard about what happened in the kitchen. 

"He makes fun of me, and then I 'accidently' kick his chair out before he can sit in it, rinse and repeat," Bucky muttered, gathering steam he hadn't realized he'd been bottling up. "And yeah, it kinda sucked when I was trying to learn pottery and he kept laughing at my ashtray. But mostly I was just happy he was paying attention to me without being scared or sad or actively homicidal." 

"Bucky-" 

"It's not your fault, Steve," Bucky said, switching legs. He tilted his head so he could avoid Steve's expression with a curtain of his still damp hair. The words left as quickly as they'd come, leaving him feeling like nothing more impressive than a spent balloon. "I wasn't trying to-" 

"It's okay, Buck," Steve waved his hand and then sank down onto the mat across from Bucky. A wan smile curled the corner of his mouth, the quiet sadness making him look at least part of his age. "I'm told I can been a bit obnoxious with my expectations." 

"No," Bucky said, with false surprise and a slightly less false grin. 

Steve stretched out his legs and lined up his feet with Bucky's like he used to when they were kids. This time their pants didn't ride halfway up their shins, and Steve's knees were about the least knobbly thing about him. Bucky snorted and pressed slightly, rotating their ankles to either side. When they were young, his feet had been so much bigger, now they were equal. Equal in shoe size if nothing else. 

"Buck, if Sam's making you feel bad, he'd want to know," Steve said, leaning back on his palms. His shirt strained across his chest. It was still hard to hear Steve's voice and see him as anything different than the small guy Bucky had grown up with. This giant with the weight of the world on his shoulders cared about him more than anybody else did, but Bucky still wasn't sure he done anything to deserve it. He wouldn't have been able to stay if not for Steve, both literally in the tower, or as any kind self-sufficient person. He wouldn't have gotten to know Sam. 

"Yeah, how'd that work for you with the McKinney twins back when?" Bucky asked, ignoring the clench in his guts at the idea of talking to Sam at all, let alone hashing out a serious feelings talk. He had to see a shrink three times a week, a condition of his continued habitation in Fury's halfway house for wayward superheroes, but it hadn't gotten any easier to express himself, words like crushed glass in his throat. 

"I had to try, and I seem to remember it not going too badly before you chipped in with that comment about their older sister," Steve glanced up, his face going vague as he lost himself in the past. 

Sometimes Bucky got jealous of that, when he tried for the happy memories, when he wanted to remember when the first crisp morning of fall was something to look forward too, but overall, the present was more than enough. He would always be the Winter Soldier wearing a Bucky costume. "I'll take your word for it," he muttered, drawing his legs up and crossing his arms over his knees. "I remember how mad you were about your shirt." 

"You'd just given it to me," Steve said, scooting close enough to clap his hands on the outside of Bucky's calves. "It was practically a new-to-me shirt!" 

"Yeah, you're bigger than me now," Bucky said, slumping more as he finally relaxed. "I oughta get your shirts from now on." 

"See, here I figured you already had a source," Steve nodded to Bucky's shirt with a grin. 

Shit, he was wearing the Air Force shirt he'd stolen from Sam. He'd worn it to bed and then showed up to breakfast in it, where his house of cards collapsed. He was even more pathetic than he'd realized. "Stevie, I fucked up," he dropped his head on to his arms, clenching his eyes tight like the world would move on without him. "Why didn't I just laugh? Why didn't I tell him he had something on his face and then act shocked when his face didn't rub off?" 

"I dunno, Buck," Steve's big palm landed on Bucky's head. "Sometimes these things sneak up on us, even if it's the thing we want most in the world." 

"What am I gonna do?" 

"Well you're probably going to sulk, and skulk around while everyone walks on eggshells. Inevitably aliens, or doombots, or Tony's latest monstrosity will rampage through town and we'll go Avenging. Then everything will settle back to the status quo and we'll go back to making fun of Scott's poor life choices," Steve said, patting Bucky on the shoulder. "But if you want to know what I _think_ you should do, I think you should talk to Sam. I don't like to see either of you hurting. You're my best friends." 

"Thanks for the pep talk, Cap," Bucky said pulling away. He rolled over his shoulder and came up balanced on his legs. He grinned at Steve's face, knowing he was showing off, but offered a hand up. He took the easy cuff to the back of his head and then grabbed his towel to leave. He wasn't sure if he was up for option b, but the idea of living with all this uncertainty pent up in his head wasn't any better. 

# 

Redwing found him on the patio under the pool. Moonlight reflected down through the uneasy water, casting bright reflections here and there. The little drone hovered near silent in front of him, the lights blinking so he knew Sam was seeing through its optics. After a moment, Bucky held out both hands and smiled when the drone settled down and powered off. 

It was light, bottom still warm from the power it took to zoom around. Bucky idly traced the edges of Redwing's body piece. Sam had sent it so Bucky would have the option to fuck off and sulk in solitude without having the awkward situation jammed down either of their throats. He appreciated it, but he'd finally stopped running, he didn't want to start again, so he settled in to wait. He liked it out here, it was by far the least busiest balcony, assessable only through one of the conference rooms they used for briefing. 

"You're the only one who's nice to him, you know." 

"Us metal heads have to stick together," Bucky said, keeping his back to the entryway. Sam's presence was big enough to wrap around him anyway. He didn't want to see the pity on Sam's face, not when he was already drowning in his own disappointment. Maybe Sam would want to still be friends, but it wouldn't be like it was before. He already felt like he walking barefoot on summer cement, in pain, but too stubborn to take off hopping for cooler ground. 

"See, here I thought you were pulling a Hallmark movie move, getting in nice with the robot bird to get on my good side," Sam said, leaning over the railing next to Bucky. His shirt was shiny, easily blending with the dancing light, making him look otherworldly. The collar sat high on his neck but the open buttons dipped down showing off the slightest bit of chest hair. He kept his sleeves rolled up, forearms thick and steady where he crossed them at his wrists, at ease even after everything. 

"You don't have a good side, Wilson, just an all right side," Bucky teased, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. He didn't look half as good as Sam, and he knew it. He'd never figured out what to do with his hair, and he'd pulled on the first sweatshirt he'd found after his shower. It might have been inside out. 

"Jokes, you got jokes now," Sam said, pressing back and holding there, his body a warm steady line of muscle against Bucky. "Listen, I want to talk about what happened this morning." 

Bucky flinched, pulling away from that tempting warmth. Sam even smelled good, he always did. "Or," Bucky said, stressing the word, "we could forget it ever happened and get on with our lives?" 

Staying where he was, Sam turned around, putting his back to the railing. He'd always been good to let Bucky decide how close he wanted to be. "I don't think I can do that," Sam said, letting his elbows rest on either side of him. 

His heart sank, he finally found a flaw, and Sam was going to hold this over his head as if he wasn't already hemorrhaging from internal bleeding. Bucky clutched Redwing closer to his chest until the metal edge dug into his arm. He was going to lose his friend. 

"It didn't feel great standing there when you disappeared," Sam said, flexing his hands out. "I mean, everyone knows how I feel about you, and you show up all adorably sleep grumpy, wearing my shirt. So I thought it was now or never, but I wasn't expecting, I mean, I wasn't expecting _that_." 

Bucky hunched a little more as Sam kept talking. He hadn't thought about poor Sam stuck standing in the middle of the crowded kitchen while he freaked out and bolted. 

"Honestly, I was pissed, I thought this whole thing must have just been a game to you," Sam took a deep breath. His voice, usually so smooth had roughed up, filled with emotion. He cleared his throat and rolled his head to the side, letting Bucky out from under his gaze. "I felt like a moron. What kind of idiot falls in love with a grumpy, metal-armed, assassin with hygiene issues?" 

"A pretty dumb idiot," Bucky muttered, running his hand through his hair. In what world would he ever have a chance with Sam? Steve was wrong, he'd just been trying to make Bucky feel better, and now he felt worse than ever. He glanced longingly at the only door back inside, he ought to go now that Sam had had his say. 

"Hey, I did it anyway," 

"What?" 

A soft smile spread over Sam's face, his teeth winked in the moonlight. "I fell in love with a grumpy, metal-armed assassin with hygiene issues who is funny, thoughtful, my best friend's best friend, and who is super hot," Sam said, tilting his head and giving Bucky a very obvious up and down. 

"You-what?" 

"Natasha told me that if I pulled your pig-tails any harder, I'd snatch you bald. Bucky," Sam finally did crowd against him, but Bucky'd had every opportunity to run. He took Redwing from Bucky's hands, tugging when Bucky didn't want to give up the barrier between them. He set the drone aside and cupped Bucky's elbows. "You have to know how I feel about you. Right?" 

"I don't- I. No?" Bucky curved into Sam's body, his hands settled on Sam's hips with a little encouragement. 

"You know that feeling when Steve throws the shield and it's two ricochets into whatever geometry problem he's already worked out in his head?" Sam caught Bucky's eyes and held them, sharing his rising excitement. His hands squeezed and he inched closer. "It could come to you, but maybe it won't, and you're thrilled and kinda scared, but you still _want_ it?" 

The fun and fear of jumping off something high these days, because he knew with absolute certainty that Sam would be there for him. 

Sam shifted his hold to Bucky's back, his hands wide and warm, brushing up and down. "It's what I feel every time I'm with you, and I really like being with you," he said, shifting closer still until their knees bumped. "Now we can be friends if that's all you want, or if this is too weird, I'll back off completely. Just, talk to me okay? Talk to me for real." 

"I'm not real great at talking," Bucky said, twisting his head away from Sam's gaze to look at the city laid around them. So many people going about their lives. So many people living and lying, and dying and loving, all without going through the rigors of villainy and heroing. "But I like talking to you." 

"It's a start," Sam teased, sliding next Bucky and wrapping an arm around Bucky's waist as he turned them to watch the skyline. The water above them highlighted his profile, strong and steady, like the rest of him. "Do you want to go to the music fest with me?" 

"Yes," Bucky answered immediately, knowing if nothing else that he wanted that. He should have said so that morning instead of sputtering like an idiot. Then before he could think twice about it, he jumped and trusted Sam to catch him. "I do. As a date. I want to date you." 

"Cool," Sam said, squeezing Bucky closer. His hand wrapped over Bucky's hipbone, his thumb barely pressed to the sliver of skin revealed by the sweatshirt riding up. "Two things though." 

Bucky's heart beat faster, his stomach twirled like a Farris wheel out of control. He couldn't quite control the twitching in his left shoulder, and the gears sped up to compensate until he could hear the whirl. "Yeah?" he asked. 

"Leave the fanny pack at home and kiss me." 

"It's convenient," Bucky scowled, twisting slightly to glare into Sam's face. They'd pry his fanny pack out of his cold, dead hands. "Pants are so tight these days." 

"Kiss me." 

Ignoring Sam's doe eyes, Bucky pretended to think about it. He wanted to kiss Sam, wanted it for months, had embarrassing dreams about it, but actually doing it, that was a different story. Sam's arm made him feel good, but he wished Sam would just do it. Lean in and kiss him. "I will do one of the two things you asked," he offered, knowing that Sam would banish the fanny pack and then have no choice but to do the kissing. 

"Easy. Kiss me," Sam said again. He stayed frustratingly against the railing, leaning slightly away from Bucky, but he pulled on Bucky's waist. 

Bucky licked his lips, eyes darting down to Sam's full mouth. "It's –ah. It's been a while, okay?" He said, lifting his hand to Sam's cheek. He didn't turn his body yet, even if it meant he had to crane his neck hard to the right. He narrowed his eyes as a thought crossed his mind. "And if you make fun of me, I swear, I will push you right over the side of this building, and not feel bad at all." 

"That's fair," Sam agreed, his mouth tipping into a smile against Bucky's fingers. 

With a final breath to calm his nerves, Bucky pushed their mouths together. His lips were chapped and he'd somehow smushed his nose into Sam's cheek. He pulled back and sighed, wishing muscle memory could save him this time. Sam, for his part, waited for him to try again, hand rubbing up and down Bucky's side. Bucky tilted Sam face a little further and pressed in again, working his bottom lip between Sam's and flicking his tongue along the seam until Sam opened up. 

"Not bad, old man," Sam said when they broke apart for a breath. He huffed a small laugh when Bucky immediately pulled him into another kiss. 

Sam's facial hair scratched at his skin, still sensitive from his most recent shave, but he'd take the beard burn a thousand times to stay as close as could. It felt good, obviously it did, but finally being allowed to take that step with Sam was as relieving as popping a bone back into place. An ache he hadn't realized he'd been living with eased, and all he wanted to do was keep kissing. 

"I'm gonna wear the fanny pack," Bucky insisted, panting for breath between the long slide of kisses. 

"You wear the fuck out of it," Sam agreed, pulling away far enough to rub his nose along Bucky's cheek. "I'll be right there beside you."

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna tag for inappropriate use of a fanny pack, because any use is, but then I thought it might imply naughtiness, and just - no. : )
> 
> Feel free to swing by and say hi ->  
> [dreamwidth](http://chase-acow.dreamwidth.org/)  
> [tumblr](http://cowsalot.tumblr.com/)


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